"I'm sorry," she muttered. Now that she'd said it, she felt ashamed, and still somehow resentful. She shouldn't have protested—she shouldn't have felt that way. Yet she did, and it was unfair.

"Take some time tomorrow," Amberion said. "I'll show you some things if you wish." But Paks felt that he was humoring her, as if she were still sick.

When she tried to follow Amberion around the stronghold the next day, she found that in one thing the High Marshals were right. She was too weak to climb far. She pushed herself, determined not to show what she felt, but when Amberion turned back toward the lower levels, near midday, she was glad. That afternoon she copied lists without complaint, and that evening the High Marshals announced their decision to try to use the pattern on the Hall's platform.

"We won't take everyone; enough must stay here to go back, as planned. The maps show another way out this canyon, down through the western cliffs, and a clear trail to the trade route from Kaelifet. We suggest that instead of the trail that would take you past the kuaknom again. But if the transfer works, we will return and the rest of you can travel easily that way. Wait ten days for us to return before you leave; Ardhiel assures me that if we can use the pattern at all, we can return in that time."

Paks was elated to find that they wanted her to try the pattern with them. High Marshal Connaught, commander of the expedition, was staying behind; those returning were Amberion, High Marshal Fallis, Ardhiel, Balkon, and herself. With Connaught watching, they mounted the platform, standing as near the center as they could. Paks watched Balkon; he had confided to her that if he was to travel like this, he might as well go home if he could. Then the High Marshals together lifted their voices, calling on Gird and the High Lord. Ardhiel's silvery elven song joined them, then Balkon's chant in dwarvish. Paks thought she heard a faint and distant call of trumpets.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-eight

As the Hall of Luap's stronghold faded around them, the sound of trumpets seemed to come nearer. Abruptly they were standing on the lower dais of the High Lord's Hall at Fin Panir, facing the Marshal-General as she came forward between the ranks of knights: the fanfare had just ended. The Marshal-General stopped in midstride, her face a stiff mask. Behind her, the knights drew sword; others burst into shouts, questions, even one scream, chopped off short. The Marshal-General's arm came up, paused . . . the hubbub stilled, no one moved. Then Amberion spoke, a formal greeting that Paks hardly noticed because she'd realized that Balkon was not with them, and grinned to herself. She had no doubt that he had chosen to return to the Goldenaxe, and hoped his magic worked.